Kiwi
by Luella
Summary: Her lipstick is smeared and has taken on an arterial red as it shows up vibrant on your pale collarbone. Those thick curls have lost their luster and fall demurely around her snow white shoulders.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm still working on my other story but I was inspired by a Maroon 5 song. So I wrote this little ditty. I'm not sure if I want to make it into a longer story or just keep it as a one shot. You tell me. Enjoy and review!

She's wearing a lace dress that scoops low in the front; the tops of her breast peek out tantalizingly as she bends to adjust the straps of her strappy stilettos. Chase looks down her dress in an unabashed fashion while Foreman and Wilson avert their gaze.

Your gaze however is focused on Chase as he drapes his arm around the back of her chair shifting closer to get a better look. You're just about to whack his shin with the end of your cane when Foreman hits his arm telling him to watch his wandering eye.

Cameron looks over as Chase offers her a sheepish look while she pulls up her dress. It stays put on it's new perch, but slowly starts to fall giving way to those tempting mounds of flesh that were enticing the entire table a few minutes ago. She brings her drink to her lips; a diet coke with ice. Her lipstick stains the glass in a beautiful shade of strawberries, and you envision her kneeling before you the lipstick smeared around her mouth as she looks up at you, eyes heavy with lust as she holds your straining erection against her wet mouth.

You shift in your seat and bounce your cane against the floor, your other hand grips the glass of whiskey. You lift it to your mouth and you take a quick sip as she stands up dragging Chase and Foreman's arms, insisting that they join her on the dance floor.

A quick contemporary piece has begun to blare through the speakers and your eyes narrow in the direction of the band. They've taken a break and are beginning to flirt with the single nurses lingering near the bar. Wilson taps you on the shoulder and points to Cuddy. You follow his line of vision and chuckle to yourself as you watch one of the members in the band flirting shamelessly with the Dean of Medicine. She fiddles with her necklace as he tells her some awful joke and she gives up her laughter freely.

You scoff at this hook up pool disguised cleverly as a charity event and your eyes drift to the dance floor where your fellows are dancing to their young hearts content. Foreman is holding Cameron's hand as he moves to the rhythmic beats of the hip-hop song being played. Cameron shimmies against him as she runs her free hand through the loose spirals of chocolate curls. She alternates between the two of them grinding and laughing as Chase slips his hand around her wiggling waist.

The grip on your cane tightens as you watch Chase moving in on his target, but your fears are quickly relieved as you watch her pry his fingers from her body and tisks at him playfully. She's a little tipsy, thats the only explanation for the dancing, amiable mood, and the coy looks she's been sending you from across the table. You rub your hand against your thigh, the dull throbbing a welcome distraction from thoughts of peeling that short dress from her svelte form and bending her over the table and plunging into her moist heat.

The group returns to the table as the band picks up their instruments again and begin to play their stuffy brand of music that should only be played in waiting rooms and elevators. You stand as they take their seats and reach for the cigar tucked safely away in your pocket, you jerk your head in the direction of the balcony to Wilson and he stands quickly pushing his chair back to follow you.

It's a cool night, a soft breeze hits your face as you puff on the cigar Wilson has just lit. The two of you stand there as you alternate between smoking and laughing over Cuddy's latest conquest. Then the familiar scent of vanilla wafts into the air as you turn to find Cameron standing behind the two of you.

You're not sure how you've come to learn that this sweet spice emits from her, but the smell ignites a fire in your belly that has yet to be quenched.

Her eyes are lined with a thick liquid eye liner giving her otherwise innocent green eyes a mischievous glint. Wilson swallows hard and you can tell he's reminding himself of his wife at home who is sure to throw him out for good if she finds even a whiff of another woman's perfume on him. So he artfully excuses himself and puts out his cigar, moving inside to rejoin the party.

She's smiling at you in that coquettish way of hers that makes you forget that she's your immunologist, just some young thing that has a ridiculous school girl crush on you. You offer her what's left of your diminishing cigar. You do it because you expect her to withdraw and grimace claiming that she's never lifted a product of tobacco to her fine lips. Instead she surprises you; she takes it from your hand making sure her fingers brushes yours and wraps her red lips around it puffing quickly. A grey plume of smoke escapes her mouth and she grins and hands it back.

The alcohol has made her cheeks a soft pink, and her eyes are slightly glazed over as she looks you over.

"You're drunk." You say with the cigar perched between your lips. She shrugs and comes to stand next to you with one hand holding the railing, probably to help her keep her balance.

"You're high." She accuses back. You tell her it's a vicodin high, nothing out of the norm and she gives you that grin again. This time it's accompanied by a hungry look as her gaze sweeps over your body. Cameron moves closer and her small hands slip under your jacket as she runs them over your chest.

"You..." She pauses as she continues her seduction with broad strokes, "Are super gorgeous." You disagree with her deluded comment but hold your tongue for once in your life as her hands snake to fold behind your neck. Now she's staring intently into your eyes as she presses her body into yours. The free hand you have has come to rest on the small of her back as your eyes flick to the open doors of the balcony. No has seem to notice the two of you so there's still time for you to remove her from your embrace.

She won't budge. Her hands are locked at your neck and that enticing smell of vanilla is stronger than ever. Luring you into her sweet and innocent world. You're no good for her, and she knows it. Maybe that's what gets her off, you wonder. The thrill of the chase, going after her ridiculously older boss who's damaged beyond repair.

Now she's staring at your mouth and she stands on her tip toes to place a quick kiss on your waiting lips. It's fast and you barely have time to respond. She's smiling and she rises again to capture your lips. This time you respond, you've dropped the extinguished nub of your cigar and your hands are on her waist drawing her closer. You can taste the saccharine sweet taste of diet coke on her tongue as she pushes past your unsuspecting lips.

A tipsy Cameron is a forward Cameron. You store this fact in your head to use to the best of your advantage. She rubs against you and you groan into her mouth, cupping the firm globes of her ass as you still her movements considerably. She pulls back with a questioning look on her face.

"It's a rental." You tell her. "Don't want to have to explain some embarrassing stains when I return it." You reason with her. She nods mutely and slows her gyrations as she pulls your earlobe between her teeth. Her breathe is warm on your skin as she sucks on it gently pulling at it.

Wilson clears his throat from the entrance of the balcony. She slowly extracts herself from your arms and turns to Wilson. He's scratching his head while he blushes profusely.

"The party's dying down and the taxi's are lining up." He says, then moves back into the hall.

Cameron grabs your hand and leads you back into the party. Her hips sway in a hypnotic motion and you're sprung, willing to do her bidding whatever it is. You make your way outside and she pulls you into an empty cab. The driver starts to pull out of the large cue after you give him your address.

Cameron giggles as she puts her hand on your good thigh and gives it a squeeze for good measure. You're really doing it, you are bringing Allison Cameron home to your town house for a quick fuck.

You know she's a good lay, you've over heard Chase brag to Foreman how tight she was and she looks like a good lay. Everything about her screams sex. Though she could stand to put on a few pounds, you know you won't be disappointed.

The driver pulls up to your apartment and you get out, the ride: courtesy of the generous PPTH. She hugs you from your back as you fumble with your keys and you can't focus with her lips pressed against your neck.

Finally you manage to open the door. Next thing you know your naked and sweaty in your bed. Her lipstick is smeared and has taken on an arterial red as it shows up vibrant on your pale collarbone. Those thick curls have lost their luster and fall demurely around her snow white shoulders. Her taste is still on your lips from your amorous activities.

It's strong.

Kiwi.

She sprawls out across your broad chest and doses off. A pang of male satisfaction is felt as you pride yourself of rendering her in this condition. You reach for the bottle of vicodin on your dresser, because that familiar feeling of pain is beginning to creep into your system.

You dry swallow one then reach for the light she insisted on keeping off. The sleep overtakes you and leave all feelings of remorse and regret for the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Okay maybe I will write a few more chapters.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, just borrowing for my own entertainment.

His gruff voice has you squeezing your legs together as you recall the talent of his quick witted tongue.

It's been a few days since the incident. You've tackled a few cases and things have seemed to get back to normal.

Normalcy.

It's what you're desperately trying to achieve after having sex with your much older boss. Who has been walking around like nothing has happened between the two of you. Chase and Foreman haven't picked up on it but Wilson has noticed the subtle looks you send House when you think no one's looking.

Looks that have you devouring him. Your eyes graze the sinewy knot of muscle that peeks out from underneath his sleeve. Sometimes you think he flexes for you when he catches your wandering eye.

His scent is overwhelming as he bends over your shoulder to read the piece of mail addressed to him in your hands. Its strong and surprisingly soft, like Dove soap with the sharp accent of Tide detergent thrown in for good measure.

He can barely look you in the eye now, let alone speak full sentences. Instead he barks off orders, tasks that insure you'll be gone for most of the day. You do them because you can't refuse him not just because he's your boss.

It takes you longer than normal to do them but you get them done. Then sit in the conference room and wait for him to give you another task. You take out your lap top to attempt some work, but your mind keeps drifting off.

The thoughts you have bring a rosy blush to your cheeks. Your lips part as you take an unsteady breath and try to focus on the screen in front of you instead of the feeling of his long nimble hands grasping your thighs. Running sensual licks along their smooth lengths. You can still feel the warmth of his breath as he paused to look at you. Take in your disheveled appearance, the way your curls fell in unruly waves, the glazed sexual look in your eyes.

You shake your head trying to rid yourself of these thoughts.

It doesn't help.

However the crackling of the shades that were drawn, due to his bad mood, bring you out of your reverie.

He limps into the room quietly. Knuckles a clean white as he grips the smooth handle of his cane. He goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup of the warm almond brown liquid. It's just the way he likes it. You know this by the grunt of approval he makes; he swivels around to face you.

You stare intently at the screen of your lap top as he stands behind you.

"That should probably never happen again." He says finally, taking another sip from his red cup.

You hold your breath and slowly turn around removing your reading glasses from your eyes.

"Do you want it to happen again?" He holds your stare. You can tell he's choosing his words carefully. Maybe he's trying to spare your feelings and let you down easy. On the other hand that doesn't sound like him at all.

His answer never comes as Chase and Foreman bound into the room, with the latest round of test results.

After solving the case the boys invite you out for drinks. You go home and then meet them at the bar. They whistle as you walk towards them, decked out in tight low rider jeans and a slim cashmere sweater with a deep V-neck you feel sexy. Chase quickly orders you a beer as you sit next to him.

"You look nice." He offers and his eyes follow your form. You smile back politely and inform the pair that they both look handsome. An hour later you're laughing at Chase's poor attempts to pick up a single grad student. Foreman shakes his head and laughs as he comes back without her number.

"It's a wonder how you got Cameron to sleep with you." He chuckles and brings his drink to his mouth.

"I was stoned." You answer and pat him on his back.

"You liked it." He teases and nudges you playfully. A smile forms on your lips as you find yourself enjoying the harmless banter.

"Hey look who's here." Foreman says nodding to the door where a sullen House and Wilson have just walked through. Your heart stops as you watch him take a booth with his friend. He's wearing a leather jacket with one of his old band T-shirts underneath it. A pair of lime green and grey Nike Court Force Low's peer out from under his well worn jeans. He looks...hot. There's no other word to describe him.

The boys groan and you stifle a smile as Wilson and House grab their menus. Wilson says something amusing and he lets out a genuine smile and his eyes glance around the bar. He finally spots your group and you quickly avert your gaze as Chase and Foreman lift their cold frothy mugs to him.

A hello. House nods and returns his attention to Wilson.

Half an hour passes and you find your eyes drifting over to their booth. House has ordered a burger and a soda. It arrives and he grabs the ketchup bottle and bangs on the end of it lightly. Allowing the thick red liquid to drip slowly onto the burger. Wilson gets up to use the bathroom and you take this as your opportunity.

Foreman and Chase won't mind. They've been chatting up some grad students for the past fifteen minutes and have seemed to forgotten your presence.

You stand on wobbly heels and walk over to his booth. A sigh escapes your lips as you slide into the booth trapping him.

He looks over at you and continues to chew, grabbing a napkin to wipe the dab of ketchup that has escaped the clutches of the lettuce and cheese.

"What?" He asks with his mouth full.

"Why aren't you having a reuben?" You ask, resting your hands on top of the table. You want to smack your head in frustration. That's the best you can come up with?

"They make a mean burger." He explains plainly. He lifts it back up to his mouth and takes another bite. It's intoxicating sitting so close to him. You forget about the bedroom eyes Chase has been making at you. He's an amateur compared to House.

There's about a quarter of his meal left when he drops it onto his plate and brings his arm behind you. Your eyes fall to his chest and you feel that familiar pull between your thighs as you take in its muscular build. It's not to obvious but enough to give off an effortless sense of masculinity. You're tiny compared to him.

His thigh is firm beneath your hesitant fingertips. They dance lightly on the denim fabric separating you from his skin but you can feel the warm being emitted.

"You never answered my question." You say softly. He looks over at you lets out a breath.

"I want it to happen again." That's all the invite you need and your move in for a kiss. His hands tangle through your hair as he kisses you with determination. His tongue is thorough as it sweeps with your own and he draws you closer by the waist. A gasp is swallowed in his mouth as his hands slip into your jeans, stroking the identical dimples on the top of your bum.

In less then a minute he has you practically melting in his arms. You don't care that you're in a crowded bar, your colleagues are a few feet away, and that Wilson can show up at any moment. He pulls away abruptly. He can't meet your gaze again. He won't be touching you again that night.

So you stand and walk back to the boys. You grab your jacket and bid them a goodnight.

You'll just finish what he started when you get home.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews they are really encouraging so I wrote some more.

It's been a long day. A few days have passed since the "incident" at the bar. You begin to think that you'll live your life through inappropriate incidents with your doe eyed immunologist.

Her taste still clings to your mouth, muted only by beer and the tic tac Chase had been offering her. It's cute how she tries to act as if nothing happened. She continues to go through your mail and slides your coffee cup in front of you.

You chuckle over how hard she's trying.

Wilson comes by your office while you're lost in thought. He sits down and carefully unwraps his sandwich and brings it to his nose. He takes a sniff and slides the offending subject towards you.

Egg salad, he exclaims and you enthusiastically dig in. He explains that Julie made it for him in an attempt to be a "sweeter wife." She's trying to save what's left of their marriage. You laugh that she's trying to work at their relationship except she doesn't know the he hates egg salad.

Wilson shrugs noncommittally and sits back. You continue to eat.

He wants to talk about Cameron. The gossip that he is. It's on the tip of his tongue, but he's probably waiting for you to finish your lunch. Which you are beginning to release was a peace offering.

"So," he begins, "Cameron." You roll your eyes and chuck the saran wrap near the trash bin. It misses.

"What about her?" Propping your feet on the desk unsettles a stack of notes you've been writing in the half hour, but they don't fall from your desk.

"You...made out with her in the middle of a crowded bar." He replies bluntly.

"I needed something to do while you and little Jimmy got your rocks off while staring down that nurses blouse."

Now it's his turn to roll his eyes. You tell him that you've slept with her. He predictably asks if you're in a relationship.

"No." You're employer and employee. Wilson doesn't buy it but you manage to coax him into a game of quarters.

You leave your office a couple hours later with knuckles stinging and blood crusting nicely over an open cut. Wilson looks wimpy but can definitely shoot a mean shot.

After a long drive home on your bike you take shower and attend to those bloody knuckles of yours. It's a little after eight when you finally sit down in your thread bear The Who concert tee and pajamas with a bowl of some take out Thai peanut noodles. You catch up on some General Hospital and frown at Lulu's poor decision making skills. Getting drunk and hitting on your college professor is so early nineties.

An urgent knock on the door has you begrudgingly standing to your feet to answer it. You pull back the door to reveal Cameron standing, fiddling with her hands.

"Hey." She says quietly. "Can I come in?" You contemplate this for a moment and step back. General Hospital can wait, after all you do have Tivo.

She steps in and looks around. You can tell that she's surprise at the somewhat tidy condition. Last time she was here she could barely stand on her own two feet and only got the grand tour of your sheets.

"How are you?" She attempts at simple conversation.

"Peachy keen." You reply and tuck your hands behind your head after reclaiming your reclining position on the couch.

"Things have been happening between us that probably shouldn't be happening." She says from her spot behind the couch.

Typical. She's trying to make things right. Cameron can't handle a little bit of angst in her life.

"I don't want to get hurt." She continues as you stare at the paused television screen. If things continue in the fashion that they are you will hurt her.

Why, because you're damaged and unwilling to let anyone in.

"So what do you propose," You stand and turn to her. "We start a love affair made for the books?"

"No, I-"

"We ignore each other until its so unbearably you quit or I fire you?"

"That's not what I want."

"Then what do you want? Stop beating around the bush and just say what you want." You yell and watch her flinch at your angry words.

She knows what she wants. Why else would she show up at your apartment in a flimsy t shirt and form fitting jeans?

Taking a step forward she captures your face in her hands. She brushes the pad of her thumb across your top lip and stands on her tip toes. You give a little and capture her lips with yours. They're gentle kisses. You don't want to over whelm her and send her crying back to her apartment.

She pulls back and looks into your eyes. You hate when she does that, it's like she's trying to look into your soul. But before you say anything she drops another quick kiss to your lips. She's straining her little body trying to nip at your neck and you take mercy on her.

You grip her biceps and draw her up, giving her better access to your eager mouth. Cameron moans as her fingers dance in your graying hair, tugging gently at your scalp. She's focusing solely on your mouth, her kittenish attempts at making out is a huge turn on and you draw her closer to your body. Pressing her against your very apparent arousal.

Cameron's arms wrap around your neck and you hoist her onto yourself and her legs go around your waist. The two of you are propped against the couch which is making it easier on your leg to attend to her ravishment.

"Ugh!" She exclaims as you rock your hips against hers and she throws her head back. A pink blush creeping into her cheeks, her lips are parted and wet as she regains her senses. She's close to coming, you can tell.

This is given away by her persistent wiggling against you. She's seeking the same release you are.

She won't get it tonight.

You put her down and drop a quick kiss to her confused lips.

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow. Here at nine thirty." You grip her arm and lead her to the door ushering her out, but not before you press your tongue into that sweet little mouth of hers leaving her breathless then finally give her the boot.

A little coffee never hurt anyone.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry this took so long, I was away for a few days. Thanks for the reviews they're awesome!**

Its the next morning and you wake with anticipation in your belly. You go through the motions of getting ready, but take care in what you put on for your coffee date with House.

After kissing you senseless he tossed you out instructing you to meet him at his apartment.

So you comply.

It's a bit nippy this morning and you tug your leather jacket around you and readjust your floppy beret you bought on a whim two weeks ago. You knock on the door of his apartment and he comes right out. He's got his helmet tucked under his arm and his cane in his other hand. He hands you the helmet so he can lock his door, but limps away as you follow silently.

"Put it on." He says as he gets on the bike. Of course you jam it onto his head and grip his shoulder while you mount it. Your hands are cold so you slip them underneath his leather jacket to keep warm.

House takes off without a warning and you speed down the road. Twisting and turning as he skillfully takes the streets. At last you pull up to a quaint coffee shop. One you wouldn't picture House in ever.

You walk into the shop and he hands you a twenty, telling you to buy him whatever your heart desires. While his pumpkin muffin.

After retrieving your goodies you find him sitting in at a small round table. He's scratching something into the dark wood and you assume it's something crass.

He looks up and grabs the plate with the muffin on it. Before your sitting down he's crammed half of it into his mouth.

"What?" He asks as pieces fall and you grimace and drink your latte.

You rest your hand on top of the table. It's sticky and you want to remove it but the sudden pressure of his much larger hand is on yours.

Houses' calloused thumb brushes yours as you look up at him. Instead his eyes are looking outside as he continues to chew.

This is a rare form of affection you're not use to. To be honest you never thought that he could be capable of it.

"Mmm." He says and wiggles his eyebrows. A small grin splits your face and you rest your cup on the table.

"Do you come here often?"

"No. Wilson drugs me here occasionally to escape the annoying students who crown the coffee shops in town."

You nod and tell him you like it. He nods at you and brings that remaining bits of muffin to his lips.

A dark shadow of scruff has covered his face, making him irresistible. He grabs a magazine from a nearby table and opens it. It has him laughing in seconds and he tells you to move closer to him.

You comply and push your chair next to his. There's a story about young Hollywood starlets partying and you roll your eyes.

He looks over at you when your hand rests on his knee. It's not an angry look, just one that let's you know that he's okay with it.

When did he release he was okay with the two of you being something?

"I want to take things slow." You announce. His eyes narrow as he put his magazine down.

"I've invited you for coffee not a roll in the sack."

"We're not going to go back to your apartment and have sex."

"Bummer." He pouts, in a teenage voice. You stand you feel him staring at your butt. This doesn't phase you and you throw away your empty cup.

House stands and limps your way. "Come on." He walks through the doors and you follow. A quick ride on his bike has you back at his apartment anyway.

"We're not having sex." You remind him with your arms crossed. There's a rumbling from his bedroom and he limps out.

"I know. We gotta take your car." You ask him what's the destination as you hold out your set of keys.

He takes them from you with a suspicious look. No one should hand him their keys that easily and your brazen trust unsettles him a little.

Wilson's.

Your mouth is open as he pulls up to Wilson's house. He kills the engine and shuffles out of the car.

This is an invasion of privacy, you try to reason. He dangles his copy of Wilson's house key in your face. It's not an invasion of privacy if you have your own key he reasons.

Shaking your head you step past the threshold and look around. The decor is lovely. Julie has impeccable taste you think as you finger the silver pictures frames placed on various shelves. You smile as you find a framed picture of House and Wilson, dressed to the nines in beautiful tuxes. Probably a shot from Wilson's wedding.

"What are you looking for?" You ask as you walk into Wilson's office. House is thumbing through his desk, combing through the various stacks of paper.

"Hmm," he mumbles as he comes across a piece of paper, then folds it and tucks it into jacket pocket.

Now it's your turn to pout. He isn't paying any attention to you. A quick shrug and you've rid yourself of your jacket.

His head turns as he hears the heavy thud of it hitting the floor. You walk towards him slowly and a devilish smile graces your lips.

In a few steps you've closed the distance between you and your hands are resting on his shoulders. You press your mouth against his silencing the question trying to escape from his mouth. He doesn't respond at first and you slid your hands from his shoulders to his backside and give it a firm squeeze.

He jumps and pulls back. You move in again and capture his lips with your own again. Then his hands are on your arms halting your advances.

"I thought you wanted to take it slow?" You nod in agreement and his gaze softens.

"I'm not going to lose interest in you. I just...really needed to get something from Wilson's while he was out of town."

It's frightening how well he already knows you. You are afraid that he's going to see past the nice ass and pretty face and draw away from you.

"Let's go." he says and he bends to pick up your forgotten jacket.


	5. Chapter 5

Wilson laughs as you comb your fingers through quickly thinning hair. You groan as you check your reflection.

Technically this is your second date. Not counting the rendezvous for coffee as one. You've put on a salmon pink oxford shirt and a fine pair of pants.

Dinner at a quaint but fancy restaurant is on the agenda for the night. It's her way of taking it slow. Which has slowly been driving you crazy. All you've been able to think of is peeling back the sensible slacks she wears to work and having your wicked way with her on the clear conference table.

"Gotta go." Wilson raises and eyebrow as you slip into your blazer and limp out the door.

Cameron comes to the door in a loose flowing cream bandeau style dress. Her hair is artfully curled and her lips are a berry red and tantalizingly wet.

"You look great." She says and places her small hand on your chest to help keep her balance as she presses a kiss to your lips. The same could be said for her.

Her smile is sweet as you hold open the door to the corvette for her and she slides in. Your eyes keep drifting to her as you drive. Maybe you can persuade her to skip the meal and head back to your place instead.

"I'm really excited about dinner." She smiles. Okay, so you'll just have to endure the meal.

It's one of your favorite restaurants you tell her as you open the menu. She's moved her chair close to yours, same as the coffeehouse.

Cameron orders wine and you order whiskey. The waiter delivers it quickly and you take a sip, trying to soothe your jittery nerves. Of course you receive stares from fellow diners. Probably wondering why a beautiful girl like Cameron is sitting shoulder to shoulder with you and looking up at you with a girly look of love in her eyes.

She doesn't notice at all. Even when the hunky young waiter comes back to ask if she needs a refill she shakes her head and squeezes you thigh while sneaking a kiss along the rough trail of jaw.

You're not use to the displays of affection. She cuts up tiny bites of the fish she's order and chews them happily. Her groan of appreciation goes straight to your groin. Which causes you to briefly lose grip of your fork leaving a loud clang in its wake.

Her face is so beautiful it makes your chest ache. Such a lovely creature shouldn't be involved with a messed up guy like yourself. No matter what you say she refuses to believe it. You stand and throw down your napkin. Dinner was delicious. She follows you as you wait for the valet to bring your car around.

You lace your fingers with hers as you stand there and she smiles pressing a kiss to your arm. The corvette pulls up and you both get into the car.

So far the night has gone well, you pull up to her apartment and walk her up to the door. It's silent as you stand in the hallway as she goes threw her clutch for her keys.

"Ah!" She exclaims as she finds them. Before she can use them you grab her elbow and press her against you. Her arms lock around your neck as you kiss her passionately. She sighs as you grip her round bum in your hands and grind against her. Now she's pressed against the door and your hand is gripping the back of her thigh, you pull down her thong panties and let them gather at her ankles. Cameron gasps as you slip a long digit inside her, pumping it slowly. She's wet already as you add a second finger to her throbbing center. Her lips are parted and her head is slumped against your shoulder. She pulls her head up and kisses you sloppily; her grasps loosens and one hand falls from your shoulder. Her small fingers are kneading you through your pants and you ease up on your thrusts.

You shouldn't be doing this in the middle of the hallway where anyone can see the two of you. However you don't care, she's pulling down your zipper and her fingers are tugging at your growing length. You grab her wrist and drop a wet kiss to her lips.

"Let's go inside." She nods and turns, putting her keys in the lock. Her panties are still around her ankles and she steps out of them to walk.

The lights are on as you stumble through the door. She's kissing you eagerly and her hands are fumbling with your pants again. She wants them off.

"Allison?" You remove your hands from her waist at the sound of a foreign voice in the room. Cameron turns and gasps as she turns and spots two people, a man and a woman sitting on her couch. She pales and tries to extract herself from your embrace but trips on her panties that are still around her ankle. Luckily you catch her before she falls, holding onto her arm.

"Allison." The older gentleman says in a stern tone. You let go of her arm and pull up your pants, she winces as at the hiss of your zipper.

"Hi mommy, hi daddy." She says.

Oh shit. You take a step back.

This is unexpected.


	6. Chapter 6

Albert Cameron's voice is drowning in the background as you fiddle with the straw of your diet coke. You've put on a white eyelet dress and your pearl studs your mother gave you for your high school graduation.

When they met you at the door of your apartment that morning, your father told you that you looked lovely and placed a kiss on your cheek. Fiona did the same rubbing your arms with her cold hands

She mentioned that you looked a little thinner than normal.

What else is new?

They took you out to lunch at a local trattoria. So you ordered a chicken panni to stave off remarks about your eating habits.

"It's good Allison." Fiona said after she took a small bite from your sandwich. You nod and pretend to focus on your father who's complaining about the economy.

Last night hasn't come up in the conversation. After House released his fingers from your wrist he nodded at your parents and left quickly like the coward he is. Your mother asked who he was and you told her-

"A friend." Then confiscated the extra key you sent them when you first moved to Princeton. It seemed like a good idea at the time but proved to be a bad one. Fiona and Albert had showed up unannounced in your living room, while your boss pumped his fingers tortuously inside you.

Of course they were shocked. Their sweet innocent Allison Grace would never be involved with such an older grumpy man. Who was also her boss.

They didn't raise you to be that way.

"Are you listening Allison?" Albert asked.

You drop your straw and nod mutely, and your father continues his tirade. This is how it'll be for the next two weeks.

Fiona bragged to you earlier about the wonderful hotel suite they're staying in and all of the wonderful restaurants downtown she wants to sample.

The bill comes, and your four father quickly collects it and pays. They want to follow you back to work.

Hesitantly, you agree and the minute you're in your car your hand goes to your phone to dial House's number. To give him a heads up.

He doesn't answer.

Screw it, bastards on his own. Just like he did to you last night.

They follow you up to the Diagnostics and you introduce them to Foreman and Chase. Then House comes around the corner with a cherry sucker sticking out of his mouth.

You clear your throat and you feel Albert stiffen against you. He recognizes that awkward limp from last night.

"Um, House" You begin, "These are my parents Albert and Fiona Cameron." He looks your way but his eyes don't meet yours at first. Instead, he's checking you out in your virginal white sundress. His cerulean gaze dips to the low scoop of your dress, where your nipples are beginning to pucker invitingly against the confining material.

He gives Fiona and Albert a curt nod, and retreats to his office. Once inside he draws his blinds, and the familiar cracking of his television being turned on is heard.

"Don't be offended, he's rude to everybody. Not a very good quality for a boss." Foreman said to Albert.

"Boss?" He repeats lamely and you watch Chase and Foreman exchange confusing looks.

"Yeah, House is our boss. I'm surprised Cameron didn't tell. I would have expected her to tell you his life story." Chase snickered.

"Allison, dear..." Fiona begins.

"Can you guys see yourselves out? I really need to get to work." You press a quick kiss to each of their cheeks and usher them out the door quickly. Then turn and glare at Chase.

"What, was it something I said?" You roll your eyes and brush past him angrily into House's office. He's sitting at his chair with his feet propped up on a desk near the TV. He's playing with his upper lip with his finger, in that way that you find incredible distracting and sexy. If you weren't livid with him you would settle yourself in his lap and finish the events of last night.

Instead you turn of the TV and stand in front of it with your hands on your hips.

"What?" He asks. He stands and removes his blazer, revealing his thick flexed biceps.

"You're insufferable." He nods and throws his blazer on his desks and come to stand in front of you. His calloused fingertips grip your elbow and he draws you close to his warm body.

"You look nice." He says in an unbelievable soft voice.

"Thank you." You swallow hard and continue to stare into his piercing eyes. Now his other hand is palming your waist and you feel incredibly small in his presence. Anyone could walk in at any moment. Although Foreman and Chase know not to bother him when the shades are drawn, unless it's an emergency. But you can't pull away from him, you crave his touch.

His lips press against yours, tenderly as your arms wrap around his neck to deepen the kiss. His lips find the smooth column of your neck and he nips and sucks at the sensitive skin.

"House," You say in a breathy voice. If he doesn't ease up on the bites you'll be sporting an unexplainable hickey when you leave his office.

He seems to have read your mind and pulls back kissing you squarely on the mouth.

"Come to my place tonight." It's not a question, and even if it was you would never deny him.

So you nod and he grins releasing you from his hold.

You get off of work later than him (shocking) and meet him at his place. You come with a bottle of wine and he grimaces but quickly perks up when you remove the bottle of whiskey from you purse.

He eyes it warily then nods.

"This is the good stuff."

You need his approval. Without it you would be no where.

He ushers you inside and you take off your coat and hang it up. He's in the kitchen and he's taken out a glass for his whiskey and glass for your wine. You follow him and hand him the bottle. Expertly, he uncorks it and pours the contents of it slowly. It falls like a crimson wave of red sloshing against the sides, threatening to spill. House hands it to you and you smile sweetly and take a sip. His gaze lingers longer than normal and he moves back to the counter and pours his own drink.

The stem is small in your right hand and you hold it delicately, while your other hand moves to his arm and you squeeze it lightly.

"This is nice." You murmur and reach up for a kiss. He indulges you and meets your lips halfway.

"It would be a lot nicer if we were fucking in my bed." He replies crudely. You roll your eyes and remove your hand from his arm.

He's always had a way with words.

Instead of giving into his crass request you move into his living room and park yourself on his sofa. The familiar sounds of his awkward gate resonates through the room as he joins you on the sofa. Carefully he shifts you onto his lap and reaches for the clicker.

"This is nice to." He says in your ear. A small smile finds its way onto your lips.

He's trying.


End file.
